


oxytocin & formaldehyde

by bytheinco_nstantmoon



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Julie Molina, Bisexual Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Bonding, Brief biphobia, Coming Out, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Julie Molina-centric, Mental Health Issues, Nail Polish, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, and i went feral, but at least she's got reg, julie is Struggling, only matters bc they can touch, sorry about that y'all, the prompt was julie painting his nails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27588155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bytheinco_nstantmoon/pseuds/bytheinco_nstantmoon
Summary: "It was prettier inside her head nowadays, but every now and then, the memories came a-marching back in, and Julie went greyscale again.It was one of those days."-or; music can't fix everything, but maybe Reggie can make it less broken.
Relationships: Julie Molina & Reggie
Comments: 11
Kudos: 161





	oxytocin & formaldehyde

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princeyssash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princeyssash/gifts).



> "write about julie painting reggie's nails!" okay but what if the painting of the nails was actually an extended metaphor about her taking back control in her life, with a healthy dose of Jon What Kind Of Imagery Is This
> 
> welcome back to my disaster of a page

The boys brought music back to her. Anybody could see that, could see how the melody and the bass and the drumline came flaring back to life in an empty hall, echoing through the shadowy corners of her skull, washing over the dusty ducts behind her eyes, and swelling up in a crescendo of vibrant, renewed life. She’d spent a year cowering in those corners, covering her eyes and ears to hide from the sound and the song of nostalgia. The memories were coming for her. The memories were coming, and she had to hide, or else they’d rip into her and tear her straight into pieces. They’d wrench her right in two.

But then the boys brought music tumbling back in, and when the memories came a-marching, and Julie had found she didn’t have to hide at all.

It was prettier inside her head nowadays, blooming with colors she’d never seen before; streaked with baby blue, like Alex pulling her into a hug after a long day, and splashed with shimmering juniper green like Luke’s laugh bursting through the studio. It was soaked through with the errant gold of Reggie’s singing, laced around the edges with the blossoming lilac of Nick’s soft smiles, with the familiar, rich cerise of Flynn’s heart beating in time, flooding all the world in vibrancy. Filling her to bursting with something that was soft and electric and endlessly sweet all at once.

It was prettier inside her head nowadays, but every now and then, the memories came a-marching back in, and Julie went greyscale again.

It was one of those days.

_ Thrum, thrum, thrum,  _ went the thrill of the marching army, weaving its way behind her eyes, poisoning each breath. Nick smiled at her in English, and the lilac stuttered to life for a moment, but it faded back out before she could smile back, and instead she just nodded. There was something like concern in his eyes when she brushed past him again. Something like fear.

Something like pity, and pity made Julie’s stomach turn; pity made the greyscale flash into a blinding black and white that made her head ache and her tongue go dry inside her mouth. She didn’t need pity. She didn’t need the damn lilac today. All she needed was a nap.

Except then she was home, and she was burrowed down in her covers, and all she could do was flip back and forth with the energy buzzing under her skin. She’d been lethargic, inverted,  _ broken,  _ all day, but the moment she’d collapsed, something inside the empty halls of her brain had collapsed too, and the memories came a-marching with their torches raised high, blazing bright with shards of glass they threw into her veins. There was bleeding inside her blood, and the scarlet went smearing all over the inside of her head, taking over the faded hues of the boys and Nick and Flynn, leaving her stranded in an iron cage that buzzed with a thousand endless fears, sparking harshly with anxieties she didn’t even really understand, ones that burrowed into her skin and her bones and her eyes and her tongue, and she wants to scream but the panic is stilting her lungs, and-

“Julie?”

She flinched harshly at the voice, nearly tumbling off the bed, but Reggie caught her by the wrist and steadied her. Steadied her. “Reg?” she whispered.

He tugged her in closer. “Hey,” he whispered back, and eased down so that they were lying in her pillows, pulling her in like he pulled in Alex when he was bringing him down from the ledge. Julie found her face buried in her shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around her middle, her ankles hooking around his, and she could do nothing but see him, smell him, feel him- just him. It was just Reggie, rubbing her back. It was just them, just this tiny dual world, just the little circle of errant gold that shone through the dusty shadows. For a moment, this moment was all the eternities she needed.

“Sorry,” she said once she could breathe, but he shushed her. Julie curled a little further into him, just because she could, feeling drained down to her bones. “You’re comfy,” she mumbled. “Luke’s too…”

“Wiggly?” Reggie suggested.

Julie hummed, thinking. “Warm,” she decided after a minute. “He’s always so… warm.”

Reggie rubbed her back again. “Like the sun,” he agreed, which was funny, because if anyone was sunshine, it was Reggie. The way he blazed gold and all. Julie didn’t say that, though. She just basked in the glow and let the crimson drip away until her skeleton didn’t ache to shift, like it was begging to be done with it all; the moving and the dancing and the pretending, the acting like she hadn’t been trampled when nostalgia’s soldiers came a-marching in. “You feeling a little better, Jules?”

She nodded into his chest. “Mhm.” She fidgeted slightly, though, tugging back. “Hey, Reg?”

“Yeah?”

She channeled her inner Luke Patterson and summoned up the best puppy eyes she could manage, aiming them up at him with a hopeful little smile. “Can I paint your nails?” she asked, almost shy.

Reggie frowned. “Paint my…” he trailed off, then shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Let’s do this!” he agreed. Julie gave a small cheer, feeling the shadows shrivel up just a bit more, and rolled out of his embrace to get her basket of polish. It was full to overflowing- it took ages to use up one bottle, and she’d been collecting them since Carrie first gave her a bottle of mermaid pink for her sixth birthday- yet somehow, she had no gold, just a golden shimmer topcoat. She huffed. “What color are you doing?”

Julie tugged out a bottle she’d gotten from Flynn. “How do you feel about pink?”

Reggie eyed it nervously. “Pink? Isn’t that a little…” he trailed off, then cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s a bit… gay,” he finished, obviously uncomfortable.

Julie stared at him. “Pink is gay?” she asked, then blinked. “Oh. Wow. That’s- Jesus, Reg.” She set the bottle aside. “Listen here, darling,” she said, suddenly stern. “It’s perfectly alright not to like pink. Plenty of people don’t. Not liking pink is a personal opinion. But don’t you dare tie it into sexuality like that, alright? Who people love isn’t your personal opinion. It’s not alright to belittle their experience just to sculpt your own into what you prefer.” She picked the bottle back up. “Now. Apologise, or I’m painting your nails pink anyway.” It was an empty threat, since she had no idea how she’d go about doing that, but she suspected she wouldn’t need it, seeing the look on his face.

She was right. “I’m sorry,” Reggie said immediately, as genuine as ever. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” There was something more relaxed in the line of his shoulders than there had been before. “Can you paint my nails pink, please?” he requested, all wide eyes and sweet smile. Julie unscrewed the bottle wordlessly, feeling golden from the inside out.

She started with his pinky, coating it with a few careful strokes. She hadn’t done someone else’s nails in a long time. She hadn’t done her  _ own  _ in a long time, for God’s sake. It hadn’t seemed important when getting through the day depended mostly on hiding in the best shadows she could find. She did his ring finger, fiddling with the silver band for fun, and had just started on his middle nail when he spoke up again.

“I like guys.”

Julie made another stroke, careful not to nudge the paint onto his cuticle. “Yeah? Anyone specific?” she asked.

Reggie shrugged with the shoulder not attached to her current project. “Nah. There was this guy, uh, before we died. Simon.” His smile was a little sad. “I never said anything, and neither did he, but we both knew, I think. It was just a matter of fear. I always thought… you know, I always thought I’d have more time to be afraid.”

Julie paused in her work. “Yeah,” she said softly, and then nodded, a little more fervent. “Yeah. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“That’s what?” Reggie asked, but Julie didn’t answer, so instead he asked, “Is it okay to like girls too, do you think? My, uh- my aunt used to say that was sick. I just-”

“It’s not sick,” Julie interrupted firmly. “It’s perfectly normal. Bisexuality is nothing to be ashamed of, Reg.” She gestured to the flag on her wall. “Clearly.” She screwed shut the pink and set it aside, pulling out a gentle, pastel purple that she’d bought on a family trip to Florida.

Reggie just said, “Oh,” and let her do his index fingers and thumbs. Julie focused firmly on her task, lining each stroke up to perfect before she drew it in, keeping the paint off of his skin. It was easier to keep up the glow inside her head sitting like this; it wasn’t vibrant and full and bursting with color, but it was enough of a light to see through the grey dim of memories. That was okay. That was enough, maybe, for a day of glass in her veins.

She did his last three nails in a delicate blue and shifted through the basket as they waited for them to dry. “You know,” Julie said. “You were right.”

“Hm?”

“You thought you’d have more time to be afraid,” Julie repeated. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Reggie just blinked, not following. “It’s like… there’ll always be fear, but there’ll always be a light at the end of the tunnel, so you’ve got to keep walking.”

Reggie frowned. “A light at the end of the tunnel? Seriously?” He gestured to himself.  _ “Seriously?” _

“Oh, my bad.” A little smile had twitched onto Julie’s face, but she swallowed down her amusement as best she could. “It’s a, uh- a sunrise, then. On the beach. And you’ve got to keep walking. You’ve got to keep going, even when there’s fear and there’s wind and all the loose sand is blowing back into your eyes. Because if you don’t keep going, what was that fear ever worth?” She twisted the pink open again, ready for a second coat. “It’s hard to keep going sometimes,” she admitted softly. Her eyes were still trained on his nails, still lined up to perfect before she drew each stroke in.

Reggie sat patiently, amazement swelling in his eyes at her precision. “It’s hard to keep going when there’s no reason to,” he replied, equally as soft. “When you’ve lost, you know, the life of it all.” It was a joke, maybe, but neither of them laughed. Julie moved onto the purple. “It’s hard to keep going for the sake of going,” Reggie said, his voice a little stronger.

“Why keep going for the sake of why you want to stop?” Julie agreed. She had to take a deep breath before her next stroke so that she could keep it lined up to perfect. Her hands were shaking, maybe.

Reggie waited for her to breathe, and he didn’t interrupt her silence. He just let her be silent. He eased her out of the greyscale by pushing it, not by pulling her; he just let the errant gold sneak around the edges and through the cracks until it was brilliant enough to bring all the other shades bursting back.

She gave him the gold sparkle topcoat. “I love you, Reg.”

Reggie wiggled his newly painted nails, smiling so bright that the room felt like home again. “I love you too, Julie,” he said, and he helped her put the polish away.

It was so much prettier in her head these days. It’s so much prettier, as long as she’s got Reggie.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know!! what you thought!! it's 3.30am and this was incredibly experimental, so!! so. yeah. drop a comment, babes!! i love you all (:


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